Close to Home
by Tyranusfan
Summary: Sometimes history repeats itself. Part 11 of "The Search for Bucky Barnes" series. Rated T to be safe.
_Part 11 of "The Search for Bucky Barnes."_

 _Set after the earlier pieces in this series: "Visiting Hours," "Breaking the Leash," "Chasing Ghosts Part I," "Inseparable," "168 hours," "Realists," "Chasing Ghosts, Part II," "Sparring," "I'll be Home for Christmas" and Just One More Dance."_

 _Takes place about one month after "Just One More Dance."_

 _Special thanks to geminigrl11. I own nothing._

 **Close to Home**

 _Somewhere in Eastern Slovakia_

 _March 20, 2016_

None of them knew who started the train.

General Talbot had gotten word that a stockpile of Chitauri weaponry salvaged from the Battle of New York was being smuggled across Europe to a secret HYDRA location. He'd asked the Avengers to intervene, since the intelligence agencies in Washington, London and Brussels were skeptical and awaiting "more reliable, _actionable_ intel," and the corresponding agencies in Moscow, Kiev, and Tel Aviv seemed more interested in getting their hands on alien technology than stopping HYDRA from doing so.

Ambushing almost a hundred HYDRA soldiers would have been difficult enough, but the Avengers hit the dubious jackpot of being surprised by a large Chitauri raiding party. The Chitauri were as intent on reclaiming their weapons as HYDRA was of stealing them—and the Avengers of retrieving them—resulting in a three-way melee. Avengers fighting HYDRA, HYDRA fighting the Chitauri, with the Avengers taking fire from _both_ the other parties…which made it hard to identify exactly who fired up the engine, sending the train rocketing East with its embattled passengers along for the ride.

Thor had flown up ahead, looking for some way to halt the train while Iron Man was racing alongside the line of freight cars, providing air support where possible, and ready to provide rescue if necessary. Hawkeye was in the Quinjet above, trying to coordinate the action. Sam—whose wings couldn't keep up with the train's speed—and Natasha were inside, fighting their way toward the car containing the weapons.

James and Steve ended up on the roof of the train, working their way forward, fighting HYDRA troopers and Chitauri soldiers by turns as well as trying desperately to avoid being carried away by the howling wind. Their progress was slow, forced to engage the varied enemies hand-to-hand. James' earpiece hummed steadily, as Cap attempted to coordinate the team's efforts.

"Sam? Natasha?"

"In the dining car," Falcon answered, sounding winded. Gunfire could be heard through the comm. "We're gonna need a minute!"

"Three of them coming in on your left, Cap!" Hawkeye called out.

"Stark!"

"On it," Iron Man's electronically modulated voice came through. A blur of red and gold flashed by in Barnes' peripheral vision. A repulsor blast sent the three Chitauri careening off the side of the train.

Even as James batted one of the black-armored HYDRA goons aside with his cybernetic arm, he couldn't help remembering another fight, another howling wind, and a vivid first-person perspective of falling from the side of a train. He shook the memory off and flipped another trooper head over heels, driving him face-first into the train roof.

"You okay?" Steve asked, suddenly right at his shoulder.

"Fine," James replied curtly. "Keep your eyes on _them_ , Stevie."

Steve's gaze lingered for a few, probably too long to be safe, moments, then he returned to his own fight, taking on two new Chitauri. James had fought alongside the team before, but Steve still had a tendency to hover. James couldn't really blame him for his concern, except when Steve distracted himself doing it.

With his side under control, James turned to help his friend. "Duck!"

Steve obeyed immediately, getting out of the way long enough for the Winter Soldier's metal fist to knock one of the aliens out of the fight with one blow. Steve wasted no time focusing all his effort on the remaining one. There were more from where they came. Within seconds of downing the second alien warrior, Steve and James were surrounded again: three aliens and four HYDRA troopers.

James sent one Chitauri skidding backward with a powerful kick, and used the new high-voltage tazer Stark had built into his arm on the next. When he turned, he realized that he'd strayed a few feet away from Steve, and the last Chitauri was taking aim with his rifle—pointed right at Steve's back.

"Look out!" James shouted, almost leaping in his race to get between them. The rifle discharged, and the searing blue blast caught him in the side, between his cybernetic arm and his left pectoral. His armored flak jacket absorbed a lot of the energy, but James was slammed sideways, flipping a complete turn in midair as he passed Steve, and flying off the roof of the freight car.

He didn't know how, but his Vibranium fingers caught the edge of the car, gouging holes in the thinner metal as he desperately halted his descent. James tried to pull himself up, but the damaged servos wouldn't respond. All he could do was hang on and try not to pay attention to the mountain slopes racing by or the dark, frozen chasm below.

" _Bucky!_ "

Rogers spun on the remaining Chitauri and savagely put him down with his shield, then hurried back to where James hung helplessly. Steve was still two or three steps away when a groan of tortured metal signaled the collapse of the freight car's shell, and James was suddenly weightless, seeing a look on his best friend's face he had prayed never to see again.

 **CAP WS CAP WS CAP WS**

Steve heard Bucky's warning, and had turned just in time to see his friend block the alien's shot with his body and go careening past him.

"Bucky!"

He spun on the Chitauri soldier with a roar of pure fury and slammed his shield into the creature's helmet. Its neck snapped with a sickening crack, but Steve wasted no time watching it fall aside. He turned and raced toward where Bucky was holding on to the train edge.

The sight made Steve physically ill. He'd been there before, another train, another mountain pass, another enemy ray-gun. He ignored the other hostile troopers climbing up from the opposite end of the train car and moved to grab Bucky's metal arm. Hawkeye's voice was in his ear, but he ignored the warning completely. Clint must have realized that Steve wasn't responding, as the Quinjet let loose a barrage of cannon fire that knocked the approaching HYDRA troops off their feet.

The next few seconds seemed to pass in slow motion. Steve sensed more than saw the metal side of the boxcar give way, and in a terrible moment of prescience, saw Bucky's imminent drop like a punch to the gut. _No, no, no, no, no!_

He launched himself forward, leaping even as the metal began to tear away. He plunged downward as Bucky lost his grip, the ruptured side plates of the car dropping away in the wind.

 **CAP WS CAP WS CAP WS**

James felt himself falling, reaching out for the receding train in a futile gesture. Iron Man was no where in sight. The seconds ticked by—so unnaturally slowly it felt like one of his nightmares, and he realized that if Stark couldn't catch him, this was probably it... his third chance at life was going to end just like his first.

What kind of sick joke would that be?

He didn't have time to ponder whatever was coming next, because a red, white, and navy blue blur crossed his vision, and the next thing he felt was a pair of strong hands gripping his combat harness. James felt himself being spun violently in midair and the flung. The suddenly reversed momentum carried him back up and through the jagged hole in the side of the train car. He landed in a heap, ripping his right sleeve on the sharp metal.

 _Rhodes?_ That couldn't be right. Rhodes hadn't been able to come with them, and besides hadn't used the red, white and blue armor in months...

Only belatedly did his brain put together what had just happened, and by the time he had the presence of mind to poke his head back over the edge of the hole. Steve was falling, dropping like a stone into the canyon, arms not even reaching skyward. James' robotic arm flailed, trying to reach over the edge, but even if he could have reached, the crippled appendage was mostly useless and just slapped the metal frame.

"No!" James watched, horrified, as Steve fell. The train was already rounding a corner, blocking his view, and then Steve was out of sight hundreds of feet below. His brain replayed the last few seconds over and over. _He took my place. He took my place, that stupid sonnuva_...

With a shout of impotent rage, he slammed his metal fist into the floor, again and again, the only motion of which the damaged prosthetic was capable.

It was only then that his earpiece crackled to life. "Gotcha! Jesus, Cap, you weigh a ton!"

James paused, panting. _What?_ He tapped his mike. "Stark?"

"Just a sec, Sykes," Stark called back, with yet another pop culture reference that went over James' head. "I gotta a flag delivery to make."

A moment later, Hawkeye's voice came through the comm. "Cap's on board the jet...and I see Thor up ahead."

A crack of thunder heralded Thor's arrival. "The tracks are blocked! The train will be forced to stop in a few moments or derail."

The Norse god and Iron Man took up the fight overhead, making short work of the remaining soldiers outside. James pushed himself to his feet, letting the cold, emotionless demeanor of the Winter Soldier fall over his mind. He didn't do it often, anymore, but it was helpful in prioritizing things.

He stalked forward, shouldering the doors between cars open until he reached the one with the weaponry. Falcon and Black Widow already had the cache secured, and had taken care of the remaining hostiles. Sam flinched when he saw James' expression. The Widow seemed to understand. They didn't need to ask how close the situation up top had come to disaster.

"He okay?" Sam asked. It took James a moment to realize that the question wasn't about him, but had been directed _at_ him. Wilson was asking about Steve.

"He's on the jet," James rumbled. He stomped ahead, passing them and continuing on to the engine. There was still a train to stop. They stepped aside and didn't follow.

 **CAP WS CAP WS CAP WS**

 _Avengers' Quinjet_

 _Over the Mid-Atlantic_

 _3:15 AM_

The flight back to New York was strangely quiet. Talbot's people had arrived and secured the stolen weapons while Steve only needed to write up a report for the Pentagon. More a courtesy than anything. He just wanted the Army to know that the alien equipment wasn't going to show up in the wrong hands and that the unexpected band of Chitauri raiders had been neutralized.

Clint was at the controls, Natasha standing behind him. They whispered quietly to each other through their headsets. Thor was talking to Jane on his cell phone. Sam was asleep. Stark was sitting next to Bucky, trying to make basic repairs to the cybernetic arm until they could get back to the Tower's lab.

Steve had twice tried to ask Bucky if he was all right, but had gotten only stony silence in return. Tony looked uncomfortable, and the second time provided his own response. "Bruce is waiting for us back home. He'll give everyone a once-over when we land."

Nodding, Steve retreated. Bucky was the only one injured. His arm was disabled, and it appeared the Chitauri shot he'd taken had cracked a rib or two. Not that Bucky had admitted to being in pain—he didn't have to. Steve could tell.

He hated the times when his friend retreated behind the Winter Soldier. It was understandable, of course. It allowed Bucky to function despite his injuries, but it took him a while to come back, and Steve wished, not for the first time, that he knew a way to snap Bucky out of it instead of just waiting him out.

For the moment, all he could do was let Tony work. Steve withdrew to the seats toward the back. Thor was ending his call when Steve sat across from him.

"Is he badly wounded?" Thor asked, glancing toward Bucky.

Steve shrugged. "I don't think so. I think...I think that fall brought back some bad memories, though." He noticed that Thor was eyeing him strangely. "What?"

Thor's expression was guarded. "And _you_ , Steven?"

Blinking, Steve shrugged again. "Uh...no, I'm fine. Few bruises, that's all."

Thor said nothing, just glanced from Steve to Bucky and back. His face revealed nothing of whatever he was thinking. Frowning at his comrade's bizarre behavior, Steve went back to filing his report for Washington.

 **CAP WS CAP WS CAP WS**

 _Avengers Tower_

 _New York City_

 _5:00 AM_

The team filed off the jet. Sam and Thor made no comment while Natasha passed with just a slight nod in Steve's direction. Tony and Clint lingered behind by the cockpit, going over one of the post-flight checklists.

Steve frowned as he packed his gear. His friends were acting a little strange, even for them. The mission had been rough, but he hadn't thought—

A hand wrapped around his shoulder and suddenly Steve was spun so violently he crashed back against the parachute racks over the seats. Bucky was inches from his face—no, not Bucky, the Winter Soldier. Steve knew those eyes anywhere.

"Bu—?"

"Don't you _ever_ do something like that again!"

Steve was too stunned to form much of a coherent reply. "W-what?"

"Stark had the perimeter," Bucky snarled. "He would have caught me. That was his job!"

"I couldn't..." Steve broke off, not knowing how to finish that thought. _Couldn't trust Stark to take care of it?_ That wasn't true. He trusted Tony with his life, and everyone else's.

Bucky seemed to know where his thoughts were going before he did. He made a disgusted sound. "How many times do I have to tell you, Steve? It wasn't your fault!"

The _other_ train. Zola's. Bucky's fall in 1944. Steve just shook his head, unable to put what he was feeling into words.

Bucky growled, and slammed Steve into the bulkhead once more before turning on his heel and stalking off the jet.

"Bucky..." Steve called after him, but his friend was back to ignoring him. He looked back toward the cockpit. Clint was doing his best to appear as though he had heard nothing. Steve was grateful for that. Tony, on the other hand, was watching him as though he wanted to say something. _Probably to tell me I'm an idiot_.

After a tense few seconds, Tony gestured toward Barnes' retreating back. "Let him cool off. He'll be fine."

Steve's brow furrowed, not expecting that, but then he remembered that Tony, too, knew what it was like to not be able to catch someone when they fell. He swiveled his head in time to see Bucky disappear through the door of the hangar.

 **CAP WS CAP WS CAP WS**

The next two days passed uncomfortably. Bucky refused to even look at Steve for the first 24 hours. The tension in the room between them was so thick that it seemed to be bringing everyone else down. Steve decided to follow Tony's advice, and withdrew to his apartment upstairs. There was no reason the rest of their friends needed to suffer through their dispute.

Steve spent the time sketching. He'd been keeping himself busy of late, trying not to think about Peggy, and hadn't devoted as much time to the hobby as he usually did. Loss had been the only thing on his mind the past few weeks. It was distracting him and it was hurting his nascent relationship with Sharon, too. They were both still grieving, and too often the raw emotions resulted in them fighting for foolish reasons.

He didn't like fighting with Bucky, either, but when he replayed the events on the train over in his mind, he couldn't think of any other outcome. He'd do it all again. If it meant Bucky stayed pissed at him for a while, then that was the price Steve had to pay.

He resolutely avoided delving into _why_ he'd done what he'd done. Bucky had long since absolved him of any guilt over what had happened back in the 40s. They'd thoroughly discussed it months before, and as far as Bucky was concerned the case was closed. It had simply been meant to be. The universe had kicked them in the pants, for whatever reason, and there was no use blaming anyone but Fate.

So, why did Steve feel like _he_ was responsible?

"You gonna hide in here all week?"

Steve practically jumped out of his skin when the words were muttered in his ear. Bucky was standing directly behind him, leaning on the back of the chair. "Dammit, Bucky! I need to get you a bell."

His eyes tracked from Barnes to the door—that he knew he'd locked before but which was now standing open—and back. Steve didn't bother asking how Bucky'd picked the lock or why JARVIS hadn't alerted him. Bucky, though, was looking at the sketch pad.

"Whatcha drawing?"

Steve slid it across the desk silently, certain that he was about to get yelled at again. Bucky still didn't like it when people paid too much attention to the cybernetic arm. Steve was by turns fascinated and horrified by it, but had learned to keep his mouth shut. He'd been trying to draw it, though, for months. The lines were hard to capture from memory.

Bucky didn't chastise him for it, however, just lowered himself into the chair next to Steve at his dinette table and stared at the drawing. Steve waited, not thrilled with the possibility of Bucky laying into him again, but unable to look away when his artwork was being scrutinized. He _did_ have an ego, after all, and like any artist, he craved feedback.

"Elbow's not bad. Better than the last few..." Bucky murmured absently. Steve frowned, but didn't ask how or when Barnes had seen the other drawings or why he hadn't said anything. "Star's all wrong, though."

Steve's frown deepened. He pulled the pad closer and looked at the star on the arm's shoulder. Five points, lines were right, correct placement... "What are you—?"

When he looked up, Barnes was not so subtly modeling his metal shoulder. The red Soviet star had been converted. It was now pristine white, encircled in red and blue bands...an adaptation of Captain America's shield. Steve couldn't help the smile that broke on his face. "When did you...?"

"Last night, when we took Darcy to the tattoo parlor. Been meaning to get it done for a while. Vinnie does good work."

 _Tattoo parlor?_ Steve face twisted in confusion. "Darcy got a tattoo?" And when did Bucky meet a tattoo artist? When did Bucky ever leave the building on his own when he wasn't jogging or buying groceries? Those questions went unspoken.

"Well, she bet that she could drink me _and_ Thor under the table. She lost." Bucky shrugged, looking not at all sympathetic.

Steve huffed a half-amused, half-disdainful laugh. "You can't get drunk, and Thor's...a Viking."

Bucky shrugged again. "She held out longer than we expected before she passed out."

"What was the tattoo?"

"'Darcy Loves Bucky,' with a little heart in the middle, along her midriff."

"Buck!"

"Relax, Stevie, it's henna. It'll wash off in a few days."

Steve pondered that for a moment. "Wasn't Darcy leaving for Florida this morning?"

"Nine o'clock sharp."

"Buck, that's mean," Steve said, but grinning at the thought.

"Consider it a well-learned lesson in the dangers of gambling. I'm doing the kid a service," Barnes deadpanned. "Only a fool bets against a super-soldier and an Asgardian."

"I bet she learned her lesson."

"Mm-hmm," Barnes' expression sobered. He started picking at the wood of Steve's table idly. "And speaking of things people really shouldn't have to be told anymore..."

Steve cringed. _Here it comes_. He'd let Bucky lure him out, now he was going to get smacked down.

"Stark could have caught me just as easily as he caught you. That's why he was there."

"I know that, Bu—"

"And it wasn't _your_ fault that I got blasted off Zola's train. We went over this. Several times. Emptied Thor's keg of ale in the process."

"Buck—"

" _And_...the team gets a little antsy when their C.O. starts acting like he's trying to get himself killed. Bad for morale," Bucky finished quietly, deadly serious.

And there it was. Bucky had, somewhere along the line, become the Avengers' unofficial team sergeant, just as he had been for the Howling Commandos all those decades ago. He was the one who could read Steve like a book, and the one the others could count on getting through to him when they couldn't.

Steve hung his head, unable to meet his friend's eyes. "I'm sorry. I just...panicked. When I saw you go over the side...it was happening all over again. After all this time, I thought I was past it...but it just— I'm sorry, Buck."

Barnes leaned closer, elbows resting on the table, and sighed. "You know I'm going to end up talking to Nieves about this. And you know I _hate_ that look she gets when she's right."

Steve huffed a rueful laugh. "Yeah, I know. I guess I should go apologize to everyone for the show I put on."

"Don't apologize," Bucky shot back. "It's a sign of weakness."

Steve glanced at him. "Isn't that—?"

Bucky nodded. "Agent Gibbs is a very wise man. I started Season 5 yesterday."

"I'm surprised Thor let you go through with the tattoo thing."

"He wasn't going to, until I proved that it was perfectly safe," Bucky replied, pulling up the sleeve on his flesh-and-blood arm. Ornate black lettering proclaimed 'Property of Vicki Marlowe.' Steve smiled, despite his sour mood.

"One of these days you're going to have to tell us your Vicki Marlowe story," Clint's voice called out from the doorway.

"When you're older, Barton," Barnes said lightly.

"Tony wants pizza, you two in?" Clint asked.

"Be right there," Barnes answered for both of them. When Barton left, he looked back at Steve. "We good here?"

Steve smiled faintly. "Yeah."

"Good, I'm starving."

"You're always starving," Steve retorted.

"Looks who's talkin'!"

Steve reached out and grabbed Bucky's shoulder before they reached the door. "Hey...I really am sorry."

Bucky turned back, staring out the bank of windows that made up the far wall of Steve's suite for a moment. "I never said thank you...you know, for being an idiot and saving my ass."

"Well," Steve tried to sound magnanimous. "You were taking a laser beam meant for me, so...I guess we can call it even."

"Even?" Bucky raised his eyebrows. "No. 'Even' is no more train jobs. _Ever_. I hate trains."

Steve laughed. "Amen! Next time I'm telling Talbot to send the Air Force. They can just blow it up."

Bucky nodded once. "Deal. Let's eat."

END

A/N: _If the tone seems a little off here, it's because I actually wrote this story FIRST, way back when I started writing this series. I wanted to know where the series was going to end up before I started down the road to finding Bucky. That was LONG before Bucky called himself James and before I had even seen Dr. Nieves' name on the marvel wiki._

 _I updated it to include all of that backstory, and kept it in the lineup because guilt is one of those emotions that sometimes just doesn't let go, even after pouring your heart out to your best friend over half a keg of alien ale._


End file.
